Heat Sickness
by DayDreamer120
Summary: Not all spirits protect humanity and not everyone who starts out good remains that way. Jack learns these lessons the hard way when he meets the prototype Guardian, Lady Midday.
1. Slash and Burn

Summary: Not all spirits protect humanity and not everyone who starts out good remains that way. Jack learns this the hard way when he meets the prototype Guardian, Lady Midday.

1: Slash and Burn

Burgess

July 7

The town of Burgess, known over the last several years for its picturesque winters and largely happy populace, was facing a very serious threat: Summer.

Now, summer is largely a time of joy, particularly for the town's children (and teachers). It was a time to play outside, to hit the beach, a time for ice cream and making memories. Last week had been like that. Today was not.

Walking through the town, a casual observer would note the lack of activity. No children played in the sunlight, people drove short distances instead of walking. Even animals made themselves scarce. This would be because the town of Burgess was facing a record breaking heat wave that had driven the smarter portion of the populace inside.

Two teenage boys trudged through town, brown grass crunching under their feet. Heat waves distorted their sight and breath came in ragged pants. Reaching a bench, the taller of the two flopped down, hand shielding his eyes. "Your damn brother just had to need an escort!" he huffed, glaring at his friend. The other glared back, "not my fault the brat can't walk home alone. You didn't have to come anyway, Bryan."

Brian huffed, giving up on finding a comfortable position on the bench. "Not like there's anything better to do." The two continued on, cursing the sunlight burning through their clothing, scorching them to the bone. Bryan and Trevor, the shorter of the two, were seniors at the local high school. In a town as happy as Burgess, they were as close to delinquents as you could get. Bryan had tattoos and smoked, while Trevor was an unsuccessful playboy with near-failing grades. Hardly hardened thugs, but misfits nonetheless.

About a quarter mile from their destination, the duo stopped again. Trevor spat on the ground, silently furious. Bryan had surpassed silent resentment and was instead cursing the weather, Trevor's family, and life in general. "Fucking heat!" he growled at the sun.

"Excuse me?" came a lightly accented reply. What? Blinking, Bryan realized that the sun hadn't, in fact, responded and whirled around. Trevor, who had looked over first, let out a long whistle. It was a girl, and definitely not one from Burgess. Bryan's eyes widened at the sight. Expertly dyed hair starting out fire truck red and shifting through orange to a sunny yellow at the tips, perfectly tanned skin. Designer sunglasses hid her eyes but did nothing to hide her beauty. Bryan glanced over at Trevor, whose attention was fully captured by the firey goddess. Considering his record with pretty girls…

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Bryan fought back a groan as his friend's voice lowered into a smug purr. Did he really think that worked on anybody? Trevor strutted forward, eyes never ending their perusal. "What's a girl like you doing in a dump like this?"

Miraculously, the partial redhead seemed more amused than anything, lips twitching up. "Just passing by. Isn't today lovely?" Trevor snorted, still moving closer. "You're kidding, right? This heat's a nightmare. Seriously, the sooner autumn starts, the better." This time the girl was not so amused, lips thinning and hands forming fists. For some reason, Bryan felt the need to warn Trevor, which was odd in itself; He loved watching him strike out.

"I happen to hate cold weather," came the even reply. Was it his imagination or had the temperature increased slightly? The light was filling his vision now, forcing him to squint at the couple in front of him. "Your attitude seems pretty disrespectful considering how necessary this season is." Bryan backed away slightly, buffeted by the heat. Why was the heat coming in sideways, as opposed to from above? He fell back into a wall, mouth dry and eyes tightly closed. He needed water. Opening dried lips, he tried to call out to Trevor but nothing came out. The world seemed to be moving. Huh.

"Disrespectful? Please, it's not like nature will give a crap what I think. Besides, this is just a global warming thing, nothing natural about it." Silence.

Trevor looked up when no response came before falling back in surprise. The beautiful teen had been less than in inch away from him. On a normal day, he'd take that as a sign to kiss her. But there was nothing inviting about the girl anymore, not with her teeth bared and skin practically glowing in the light. He wasn't afraid of a girl, he wasn't, but somewhere in the back of his mind, an instinctual wariness kicked in. Trevor moved back and she followed, never letting him more than a foot away. "Uh, l-look, I didn't mean anything by it. We're cool, right?" His back hit the wall. Where the hell was Bryan?! This girl was freakin crazy! Something warm brushed his leg and Trevor chanced a quick look down. Bryan! Forgetting about the weird redhead for a moment, he tried to rouse his friend. "Bryan! Wake up! Come on, man, I can't carry you back!" His friend remained motionless, skin flushed and breath shallow.

Trevor looked up, seeing the girl had stopped several feet away. She was grinning, her teeth glinting. "Get over here! Can't you see he needs help?!" The girl moved forward, and he gasped as waves of heat smashed against his skin.

"Help you?" the girl giggled, a strange, crackling noise somehow surrounding the girlish sound. "Why should I help somebody who disrespects Mother Nature?" Forgetting his friend, Trevor bolted. He heard the same crackling giggle behind him. "That's right, keep running! I love a good chase!" Trevor ran, his feet barely touching the ground. He was almost there! No!

He'd tripped on an uneven section of pavement, face meeting the ground in a spray of blood. Trevor choked in pain as he grabbed his injured leg, precious water streaming down his face. In desperation, he tried to crawl. He wasn't far! He could read the signs on the front doors! Not hearing anything behind him, he looked back. Nothing. Relief made the tears come down harder. He'd made it. Turning back, his broken nose brushed against orange cloth. Trevor looked up and saw hellish red eyes and the shine of descending metal.


	2. Why Winter and Summer Never Touch

Warning: If the first chapter didn't clue you in, please note that this is rated T for a reason. There will be violence, cursing, and anything I feel like putting in. Probably no romance or sexuality.

2: Why Winter and Summer Never Touch

"Incoming!" Jamie Bennett dove out of the way as Jack zoomed by, laughing at the spray of ice dust left in his wake. Now fourteen, Jamie had developed a surprising resemblance to his best friend, the only real differences being coloring, clothes, and hair length. While no longer a child, Jamie and his friends were still believers, and Jack loved being able to spend time with people near his physical age.

On a scorcher like today, Jamie, Claude, Caleb and Monty knew there was only one place they could go with the winter spirit: the Burgess skating rink. Jack, never a fan of the heat, had been thrilled with this little piece of December, zipping around while the believers struggled for balance. Jamie groaned as the white haired teen snagged his sleeve, dragging him along. "I'll never learn if you keep doing this!"

"So? You'll never have to learn if you keep inviting me," Jack twisted, narrowly preventing a face-to-wall collision. "See? We're fine." Rolling his eyes, Jamie grabbed the railing along the rink, letting his friend show off moves perfected by three centuries of alone time.

Roughly an hour later, the human trio had retired to the benches, massaging aching ankles and waiting for Monty's brother to arrive. Jamie thought it was pretty unfair that they couldn't just take the bus back, but their parents were kind of protective, especially Monty's. That meant waiting, and Trevor was twenty minutes late, so everyone was getting annoyed. "Let's just go," Caleb tried. "Last time your brother was late, we were stuck for an hour." Monty nodded, wincing at the memory of being trapped in the art museum. "Works for me. Jamie?" The unofficial leader of the group, Jamie usually had the last say in decisions like this. He thought it over carefully. On one hand, Monty's mom and his parents would probably be pissed if they went back alone, but they were teenagers. Plus, Jack would be there, and he was sort of an adult. "Let's go." The three started off, knowing Jack would join them after taking a minute to brace himself for the heat. Returning their skates to the bored looking desk clerk, they walked through the front doors, pupils automatically shrinking in reaction to the influx of sun. Ever since meeting Jack, Jamie swore he had lost all tolerance for heat, and today was awful. Blinking in the glare, it took the believers a minute to notice the crumpled form several feet away.

"Trevor!"

HSHSHSHS

"Trevor!"

Inside the skating rink, Jack Frost's head snapped up at the sound of a believer's yell. Abandoning the ice, Jack raced out the door in time to catch the collapsing Monty.

"Jack! Over here!" Carefully laying Monty in a patch of shade, Jack joined Jamie and the twins. "Hey, what's wr-

Jack gasped at the sight before him. A teenage boy, maybe two or three years older than the believers, lay motionless on the ground. His skin was red, burned by the sun, dark eyes were wide open, gazing unseeingly at the sky. Blood trickled down his nose, pooling onto the pavement where the temperature had already begun to dry it out. And those cuts…

All along the boy's (Trevor, Jack remembered this was Monty's older brother)torso there were thin, wicked looking scars. Not even cuts, since they weren't bleeding. The skin along them was pinched and brown. They were almost…cauterized? Quickly kneeling beside the boy, Jack brushed a fair-skinned hand along Trevor's skin, leeching away the warmth. "Jamie, call an ambulance!" Jamie nodded, phone already out. Calling to the wind, Jack had it form a cooling cocoon around Monty's brother, protecting him from the worst of the sun's rays before sitting back, tired. Normally, this was simple for him, but he normally wasn't around during the summer months. He'd only come because he hated to spend more than a couple weeks away from the Burgess believers, but he'd known he'd regret it from the moment he felt the sun's rays beating down.

Craning his neck, Jack looked for the ambulance. Trevor wouldn't last long without medical help. Parking lot, cars, flash of red hair. Wait. Getting up, Jack ran to where he had seen a form a moment earlier. Nobody was there, but there was something on the ground. Crouching down, Jack dipped a finger in the red liquid. Blood. Trevor's attacker had been there. Ignoring Jamie's calls, Jack took to the air, following the trail of red drops. Nobody hurt his believers' families!

HSHSHSHS

Jack zipped through the trees, hands gripping his staff, face contorted in anger. The blood trail has stopped much earlier but the wind pushed him on, seemingly in agreement of his goal. Though he had no proof, Jack knew somehow that Trevor's attacker wasn't human. Yes, he'd only caught a glance, but one immortal could always spot another. Besides, what human could've cut him like that without anyone else hearing or seeing anything? It was right outside a busy skating rink for crying out loud!

The wind stopped abruptly leaving him in the middle of a clearing. Blue eyes narrowed, scanning the surroundings. Despite being in a forest, the clearing was entirely devoid of life. There wasn't even grass, just dead, sun-bleached dirt, little clouds of it puffing up from where his feet touched down.

"Come out," he said, voice carrying through the clearing, "I know you're here." Nothing. "Show yourself!" A fly buzzed halfheartedly by his ear. "My name is Jack Frost, winter spirit and Guardian. Answer me!" That got a response.

Jack fell to the ground, narrowly escaping a burst of flame that his a tree behind him, instantly igniting the dried leaves. Scrambling to his feet, he faced his enemy, staff stretched out in front of him. His jaw dropped as Trevor's attacker came into view.

A girl. A beautiful, glowing, monstrous yet beautiful girl dressed in red, orange, yellow and black. He barely noticed the details, gaze fixed on her eyes. Jack had seen spirits with odd eye colors before. The April Fool had purple eyes, cupid had pink with red pupils. Hell, Sandy's eyes may actually be made of sand, but they had nothing on hers. At first glance, they were bright red. But then he noticed movement. It was almost like looking into a fire or a stream of lava rolling down a volcano. Red and orange twisted and clashed, fighting for dominance and swirling in unity. Looking into those eyes made Jack painfully aware of the surrounding heat, leaching the winter chill from his body. Only years of experience prevented him from backing away.

"Winter spirit?" The girl was quiet, yet perfectly clear. "What do you want?" At that, Jack snapped out of his trance, taking a step forward. "This town is under my protection. You had no right to harm that boy!" The girl smirked. "Which boy?" Which boy? That meant there could be others! Jack felt the chill return to his body as anger filled his mind. "What do you mean 'which boy'? Who are you?" Enraged by her obvious enjoyment, Jack acted. A surge of icy energy shot towards the unknown immortal, freezing everything in its path. The blast collided, sending a smokescreen of snow through the clearing. Through the clouded air, Jack stepped forward, ready to collect the frozen body. He'd bring her to the others, maybe they knew who she was. The air cleared. The other was gone.

Jack whirled around, eyes wide. He'd seen her get hit! There was no way she could have avoided being frozen! The ice around the clearing began to melt, the air humidity soaring and making Jack cough at the unpleasant feeling.

"So weak," a crackling laugh filled the air, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere. Jack felt a burst of fear. Even Pitch hadn't been able to get to him like this. "Little traitor. So weak, so very alone." That one stung. He hated being reminded of his life before joining the Guardians. And what did she mean traitor? By this point, the girl's voice was almost a murmur, as if she was speaking to herself instead of him. "Mother's disappointment."

That was it. With a yell, Jack once more sent out his ice, this time in a circle blossoming out. There! Jack felt as the ice twenty feet to the east began to melt. He charged forward, dodging a blast of golden energy. Fire and ice met in a burst of steam as Jack slammed into the slightly smaller form, sending them both to the ground. Jack screamed in pain as fair skin met tan. Her skin burned like fire, singeing the hair from his arms and sending bleeding lines of black through his sleeves. He heard the girl gasp in pain as water vapor rose from their touching skin, and realized that his inner chill hurt like her heat hurt him, but not as much. Knowing he was outmatched, Jack rolled off. His arms hurt so much, the delicate skin bright red and beginning to blister. Icy tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Seeing the redhead's distraction, Jack abandoned the fight, taking to the skies. He heard the firey spirit scream in rage but the wind carried him out of range at top speed. Blue eyes closed as the direct sunlight stole the last of his energy. He knew the wind would take him to safety. With that in mind, Jack Frost slipped into blissful unconsciousness.


	3. Conflict and the Moon

3\. Conflict and the Moon

Note: I don't know how to write accents. Forgive me.

North Pole

Tap tap tap. Nicholas St. North, better known as North or Santa Claus, looked up at the noise. Tap tap tap. Straightening from his work table, the Guardian of Wonder looked around the room. Tap tap tap…CRASH! North jumped, drawing out his twin swords as a window in the corner of his personal workshop shattered, sending in a gust of freezing wind. Eyes narrowed, the wind followed Jack, which meant…

"Jack!" The large Russian yelled, looking around for his mischievous comrade. "This is not funny! Could have ruined work!" There was no reply beyond the movement of air, pushing him towards the broken window. North felt a twinge of nervousness. It wasn't like Jack not to answer. For that matter, it wasn't like him to break another's possession on purpose. He allowed the wind to push him, leaving his treasured swords on the floor. "Jack?"

Reaching the window, North craned his neck, looking for the white haired boy. Down, the wind whispered, look down. The toy maker did so, eyes widening as he saw a familiar form curled on a snow pile hundreds of feet below.

"Jack!"

HSHSHSHS

July 8

Jack rolled over, nearly falling off the plush mattress. Blue eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light. The winter spirit sat up, muscles protesting fiercely. He was in the Medical Ward of the North Pole. For a moment, he was lost. How had he gotten here? He remembered hanging out with the believers, sliding on the ice, then they left…and…this time, Jack did fall off the bed as memories of the glowing spirit assaulted him. Through the pain of remembrance, as well as hitting a marble floor, Jack heard a yeti growl before he was scooped up in furry arms.

"Hey Phil." The yeti, wearing a stethoscope for some reason, nodded, carrying him bridal style across the room and through double doors. Jack didn't bother asking where they were going. For one, he didn't actually speak yeti and, for another, he had a good idea of who they were going to see. No doubt North had called in the troops.

HSHSHSHS

In the official meeting room of the Guardians, tensions were high. As soon as Jack's injuries had been seen to, North had summoned the others. The news that their youngest had been harmed caused an uproar. Tooth had been near tears for hours, Sandy's dreamsand pictures had become increasingly chaotic and even Bunny, whose rivalry with the icy Guardian was near legendary, was nervous, snapping angrily at the others and pacing the room. North was the only one calm, though he was far from happy.

As the leader of the Guardians (yes, he was, there had been a vote two centuries back), North had taken the news of Jack's injuries the worst, instantly blaming himself for not having been there, for not having put more thought into the boy's training. But many hours had passed and North's self-criticism had worn down as anger seeped in. Despite rumors in the spirit community, North did not see Jack Frost as his son, but that didn't mean he didn't care. Jack was like a nephew, a treasured, if rebellious, protege. When he looked at the teenaged spirit, he saw much of himself. The boy had quickly become the heart of the Guardians and to see him in such a state sent white hot spikes of hatred through his heart. Whoever had done this would pay.

A knock on the door snapped the four out of their thoughts. "Come in." The door creaked open as a large yeti entered. Seeing the scowling bundle in his arms, the Guardians shot out of their seats, rushing to check on the teen. "Guys!" Jack protested, as he was lifted from Phil's hold by North and carried to a plush armchair, Sandy and Tooth fluttering nervously around him while Bunny poured a glass of eggnog from a pitcher, forcing it to the winter spirit's lips. "Seriously! I'm fine!"

After several minutes of confusion, the older Guardians settled down. "We're so glad you feel better, Jack" Tooth said earnestly. "What happened?" Looking at the expectant faces around him, Jack sighed. While he'd intended to tell the others about the attack, he was suddenly a bit nervous. There was no way this would end with his friends not tracking down the crazy redhead. But still…

"I was in Burgess, with Jamie and some of the others-

HSHSHSHS

Jack completed his story, instantly aware of an aura of doom surrounding the room. North's face was red, large fists tightly clenched. Tooth's wings flapped angrily, nearly sending her to the ceiling. Bunny was looking…wow, he hadn't seen that look since 68.

Hoping to diffuse the tension, Jack asked "so you know her?" North visibly struggled to collect himself. "Yes, we know her. Was Lady Midday, spirit of summer." Jack blinked in surprise. He'd thought she might be a fire sprite or something but summer spirit? Like how he was a winter spirit? "What's wrong with her?"

Bunny snarled, a paw gripping his boomerang, "She's crazy as fu-

"Bunnymond!" North cut in, glaring at the Guardian of Hope, "enough!" Turning back to Jack, North let his gaze soften. It wasn't that they had been hiding her existence, but the summer spirit was such a solitary creature, they hadn't thought to warn him. Besides, Midday avoided snow like the plague, so the two meeting had never crossed his mind. "Lady Midday is old spirit, servant of Mother Nature. She is…deeply disturbed, and hates cold very much. Likely saw you as threat." Jack frowned, thinking back. "I've heard of Mother Nature. She's like MiM right? Why would she let Midday hurt a human?"

Damn. North closed his eyes, searching for a way to explain Mother Nature. "Yes, she is very powerful and dedicated to Earth, but not to people. Likely doesn't care so long as Lady Midday keeps bringing summer." In the background, North saw Tooth and Bunny looking around nervously, as if Mother Nature was about to pop out of the ground and strangle them with vines. Shaking the image out of his head, North refocused on Jack. "Mother Nature is very dangerous woman and favors her spirits greatly. Very rarely makes them, you see."

Jack nodded. The gi- Lady Midday, he amended, had been incredibly powerful, more so than Pitch, if he was being honest. He had a feeling she could have easily killed him if she wanted, so why hadn't she? Bunny came up again, face serious. "So what are we gonna do about this, North. The crazy Sheila nearly killed Frosty!"

North's reply was cut off as beams of light began to swirl through the room. Looks like the Man in the Moon had arrived. The light met in the center of the room, forming a column. "Manny," North nodded to the light as the others walked forwards, "what should we do?" Swirls of moonlight drifted up from the column, forming a tiny, monochrome version of Lady Midday. Another image formed, the guardians, looking ready for battle. Just as instantly as it had arrived, the light dissipated, leaving the Guardians alone. North let out a large sigh, a hand caressing the hilt of his sword. "He has spoken. We defeat Lady Midday and he will deal with rest." Bunny and Tooth nodded, eyes lit with determination. Jack didn't feel so sure. Yes, Midday was clearly…unwell…but something about hurting her felt…wrong. His insides twisted unpleasantly as he thought back to her colorful hair and playful smirk. Something felt so…familiar about her. So right, almost.

Turning from the others, Jack noticed Sandy floating on the other side of the room, golden face filled with regret.

Note: No, I'm not putting Jack and Midday together in any romantic sense. That being said, there is a very important reason Jack feels connected to her.


	4. Birth of the Guardians

4\. Birth of the Guardians

Note: Thanks for the virtual chocolate.

Jack sped through the halls, praying the Sandman hadn't left yet. The meeting had ended minutes earlier after deciding on a basic battle plan. His efforts to catch Sandy on the way out had been thwarted by an impromptu checkup from Phil. Resistance was futile when it came to yetis. Turning the corner, Jack saw a swirl of sand up ahead.

"Sandy! Wait up!" Jack made his way to the end of the hall and the waiting immortal. "Listen, I really need to talk to you. It's important." The smaller male looked uncharacteristically nervous, eyes darting about and sand swirling erratically. "Please." With a silent sigh, the dream maker nodded, gesturing for the other to follow.

HSHSHSHS

Every Guardian had a room at the North Pole, despite the fact that nobody needed one and they generally disliked being away from their own homes for more than a day. Still, Sandy's room turned out to be a pretty convenient place for a secret meeting. Jack took the offered seat, taking a moment to work out what he wanted to say.

"The others really hate Lady Midday, huh? And not just because she hurt me?" Sandy nodded, not looking directly at Jack. "But not you." The golden head snapped to face Jack, eyes wide. "It's ok, I don't hate her either." Sandy relaxed slightly, a look of sadness entering his eyes as his poker face slipped. "Who is she? Please," he said, as Sandy tensed again, "I need to know." The little male was still for several minutes, clearly torn, before nodding again. A gold sand arrow appeared above his head, pointing to the spacious (much too big for the Sandman) bed on the other side of the room. Jack walked over, laying on the bed as Sandy hovered nearby, forming an orb of sand in his hands. Jack's eyes widened as the sand began to glow, gold being replaced with white. The orb left his hands, moving above the bed before bursting apart, scattering the glittering white sand into the winter spirit's face.

HSHSHSHS

Blue eyes snapped open before widening in shock. He was floating in a white void. Alone. Just as panic began to set it, a familiar cloud of sand appeared. "Sandy?"

"Hello Jack," came an unfamiliar voice. Sandy's voice, the stunned spirit realized. Jack had imagined what Sandy's voice would sound like before, but he'd pictures something high pitched, maybe a little childish. The smooth baritone was pretty shocking. Recovering, Jack decided to look past that for now. "Where are we?"

"This is a dream," came that strange yet oddly calming voice again, "The best way to explain Lady Midday is through my first memory of her. The origin of the Guardians."

"What! What do you mean the or-

Jack felt his voice cut off as the world faded to black.

HSHSHSHS

1456 AD

France

A glowing gold figure directed streams of golden sand through the air, face screwed up in concentration. This was the Sandman, creator of dreams, and this was the day his life would change completely.

The little man looked up, eyes widening in alarm as a twisting ling of fire and darkness shot through the sky before crashing into a nearby valley. The Sandman, ignoring his own fear, crept closer, settling on an overlooking hill. As the air cleared two figures appeared. The first he knew well. Pitch Black. Again, only willpower kept him from fleeing. The Boogeyman had grown so powerful in the last few centuries, no spirit dared approach him. Until now. Sandy didn't recognize the other figure, but he knew, even then, that he could never forget her.

It was a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, a beautiful girl who glowed like the sun, a stark contrast to the dark male in front of her. Red-to-yellow hair fell in two glossy braids as yellow-orange eyes glared fiercely into gold. She was dressed simply in a long yellow-orange dress with a red sash wrapped simply around her waist, matching red slippers on her feet. Sandy had never subscribed to the sexist beliefs of Earth culture, but even if he had, there was no way he could see this young woman as anything other than a warrior. "I won't let you kill them, Pitch!"

The shadowy male laughed, shadows collecting around his feet. "Now now, dear Lady, surely your mistress can't object? A nice little plague to get rid of the filth dirtying up her planet, nothing serious. A favor, really, and just a pinch of fear for me." The girl advanced, the light radiating through her skin driving away the shadows closest to her. "I don't do this because Mother objects, I act of my own free will." Pitch backed away slightly, clearly repelled by the light. "You killed so many innocents with your last plague and I was too late to stop you. Not this time!" In a flash, the girl launched herself across the field, a trail of fire in her wake.

Metal clanged as Pitch's infamous Dread Sword met her weapon, a scythe. Sandy gulped. This was no Reaper Scythe, it resembled the gardening tool, though clearly of spirit design. It had a gold blade, dark wood handle and a spherical ruby on the bottom. It was lovely, and glowed with the same inner light as its user, but it was comically small against the ink black broadsword. The two fought, weapon to weapon, as darkness and light fought around them. For hours the battle raged, decimating the valley and nearby hills, tearing through a mile of uninhabited land. And the sunlight girl was winning!

The two paused again, on opposite sides of an new field. The Lady was breathing hard, glowing gold blood coloring her dress. On the other side, the Boogeyman allowed a shadow to bind his wounds, eyes never leaving his opponent. With his keen, inhuman eyes, Sandy could see the look on his face perfectly and shivered in disgust. Pitch Black looked at her the way a thief looked at the Crown Jewels. Hungry. Obsessed. With a thud, the Dread Sword hit the ground as he strode forward, eyes never leaving hers. The Lady looked suspicious, hands never leaving her shockingly effective weapon. "Stay where you are," she ordered. The Boogeyman obeyed, stopping about twenty feet away. "Do you yield?"

The male chuckled, "Such a fierce little thing." The 'thing' in question wasn't amused. "Dear Lady, look around you. Doesn't your fire look so beautiful against the darkness?" As the unnamed Lady refused to move her gaze, Sandy did so. Beautiful wasn't the word he'd use, though it was an impressive contrast. The land around them teemed with swirling shadows and roaring fires, painting a portrait of what the people in this continent called Hell. "Just because our abilities clash doesn't mean we cannot reach a common ground." The girl grit her teeth, refusing to be distracted. "Do. You. Yield?" Annoyance flashed quickly across Pitch's face, quickly replaced with a look of compassion.

"Oh, is this about the humans? Sweet Lady, you shouldn't cry for them. Look around you, these people kill themselves and others daily. Witches and heretics and foreigners, oh my! You on the other hand," he moved closer, disregarding her clear dislike, "you are so much more. You are courage, and strength, and passion itself!" The girl finally began to back up, refusing to let the other within touching distance. "You are the light as much as I am the darkness," Pitch mused, "together, we could do so much. Think about it: no war, no injustice, no winter famine or summer drought. The world could be ours!"

At that, the girl sprang back, scythe held up in front of her, eyes blazing. "How dare you," came the crackling whisper that carried through the air, a clear sign of rage. "Ours? This planet is Mother's dominion and I would rather die than betray her!" Distracted by her fury, the Lady didn't see the creeping shadows until it was too late. Pitch ran forward as his shadows knocked the scythe from her hands, another binding her wrists as the Boogeyman towered over her, long-fingered hands reaching out to cradle the sides of her face in a sick parody of affection.

"Your Mother's time is ending," his spoken words carried as well as her whisper, "and you will be there to see it." The shadows writhed around the struggling girl, draining the light from her skin. "You will join me, dear Lady, as my right hand. Wether you like it or not." The two vanished in a swirl of darkness, leaving a dead field in their wake. Coming out of his hiding place, the Sandman shuddered. What had he done! Why hadn't he helped? The girl had nearly won, maybe with his help she would have! Sandy fell to his knees, sobbing silently as guilt shredded his heart and mind. He'd let fear rule him for too long. How many more would be lost to his cowardice? Tiny fists clenched. Never again, he promised himself, I will never stand back again!

The Sandman looked up as a pale light began to illuminate the ground around him. The moon stared down at him. Yes, it whispered, the darkness will fall. You will not be alone, Sanderson, the time approaches.

HSHSHSHS

Jack's eyes opened again, staring blankly at the ceiling. Lady Midday had been a protector, the inspiration for the Guardians. Jack felt sick as he remembered Pitch's disgusting hands obscuring her light. Sitting up, he looked around. "Sandy?"

The Sandman sat on the ground on the other side of the room, curled in on himself, body shaking with silent sobs. The winter spirit hurried over, wrapping his arms around his friend. "It wasn't your fault," he murmured, "Pitch was too strong back then, he would've killed you. It's not your fault." The two stayed like that until morning. As the sun rose, Jack made a promise: he would save her, no matter what.


	5. Firefighters

5\. Firefighters

Note: Putting together the timeline, Midday is way older than Jack…and America. However, some of the guesses are close, just not in the way you think.

July 12

Kansas

Shiny red sandals touched down on the prairie, incinerating the grass below. The figure looked around. If a human had been there, they would have been struck by the newcomer's odd appearance. It wasn't that the clothing was strange, but the coloration ruined any chance of blending in. A neon yellow spaghetti strap top, bearing the image of a black tribal sun, equally neon orange capris, and the previously mentioned sandals were practically outrageous in their vibrancy, while the addition of a black belt with a gold sun buckle and matching black leather wrist cuffs implied an edgier side. All in all, she looked like a Californian beach goer had been attacked by spray paint and initiated into a biker gang. Ergo, weird.

Brushing a lock of wavy hair off her shoulder, the teen looked around, smiling slightly at the open land. The very dry, flammable land. Lady Midday held out her arm as the familiar weight of her scythe fell into her waiting hand. Go time. She began walking through the prairie, the hand carrying the scythe held out, moving over the grass. As she walked, the scythe's glow increased, draining the remaining water from the plant matter. Midday smiled, pleased by her tool's usefulness. Years ago, she had used the scythe to help plants retain water, preventing the ruination of crops. This was way more satisfying.

Midday knelt, raising the golden blade high into the air, aiming for the ground in front of her. One strike into the soil and she'd have one hell of a brush fire. Her grip tightened as her pulse increased. This was the best part of her job.

"Stop right there, witch!"

Damn.

HSHSHSHS

"Stop right there, witch!" Tooth shouted as the Guardians arrived through North's portal. It had taken a few days, but Bunny and North's combined experience with magic had enabled them to track the elusive spirit's movements. The tooth fairy felt her feathers ruffle as she looked at the girl, who had yet to move her gaze from the ground. She'd only met the redhead once, but it had been enough to instill a deep hatred, rivaling the female Guardian's dislike of Pitch Black. And that was before she'd gone after Jack.

Seconds ticked by, and still Lady Midday remained stationary, totally ignoring their presence. It was a battle of wills to see who would make the next move. They lost. Bunny snapped, streaking across the prairie, boomerang pulling back. With a roar, he let it fly. Closer, closer, thump. Jaws dropped at the sight.

Their opponent rose, boomerang held in her left hand. She'd caught it without looking up. Bunnymond's eyes widened, taking a reflexive step back as the other examined her new toy.

BANG!

The Guardian of Hope didn't even have time to yell as the flaming boomerang hit him square in the chest, throwing him back several feet and igniting his fur. And so it began. The Guardians (sans Bunny and Jack, who was extinguishing the former) advanced and battle erupted. Only able to watch, Jack looked on helplessly. This was going to be a bloodbath.

North charged, swords swinging. Falling back, Midday moved with unnatural speed, deflecting his attacks with her scythe before parrying, knocking one of the blades from his grip. Seeing his shock, she moved forwards, striking out with a fire-coated left hand. Lady Midday snarled in anger as a gold sand shield blocked her strike before bending backwards in a perfect ninety degree angle to avoid the remaining sword that nearly took her head off. Sandy and North fought in tandem, one attacking while the other defended, while Tooth circles around, looking for an opening. It would be easier if she didn't keep getting distracted by the summer spirit's muttering ("Old man smells like snow," and "weaklings burn" featured among them).

There. Lifting her own sword, a delicate golden saber, Tooth dove, sights set on the other female's exposed back. Bad call. Tooth barreled into Sandy, nearly skewering him, and the two tumbled to the ground as Midday shot into the air, pushed by the fire pouring from the soles of her shoes. Immediately, Tooth and Sandy rose and a new fight commenced. Both sides had an advantage. On one hand, Lady Midday clearly had trouble flying this way. Yes, she was capable, but she lacked the natural grace that came with Tooth's wings and the Sandman's levitation. And yet, in terms of strength, ferocity, and skill, she was still demolishing them. With a cry, Tooth fell from the sky after a brutal kick to the ribs, barely being caught by North, who had to dive to do so.

Jack froze, unsure of what to do. North was grounded, Bunny and Tooth were clearly injured, and Sandy, despite his centuries of skill, was unwilling to hurt the fallen hero. Should he join them? Yes, came the immediate response from his mind, help her. Wait, what? Jack blinked at the thought as the battle raged above him. He was here to stop her, why the hell did he feel the need to protect Midday? Not only could she destroy them all, but he was supposed to support his friends. Shaking off the inner debate, Jack summoned the wind, flying towards the clashing sand and fire. Pushing his staff forward, Jack let forth a blast of ice, catching the summer spirit's feet. Her method of flight disabled, the girl hit the ground hard, burning a ten foot radius in the ground around her. North advanced again, sword raised, as Midday righted herself, weapon also at the ready.

"Stop!" The two did, looking towards the source of the noise. "Jack?" North questioned, not understanding why his fellow Guardian hadn't come to his aid. Jack Frost kept his eyes on Lady Midday as he landed, advancing slowly, arms raised. "Please stop." For once, Midday and Santa Clause were equally shocked. "This isn't you," Jack tried, "you were a protector, not a killer." Lava-esque eyes narrowed but Jack kept going. "Whatever he did to you, we can help. Please, Midday, you don't have to do this."

Lady Midday blinked once, then twice more in quick succession, clearly confused. Jack wondered how long it had been since anyone tried to have an actual conversation with her. Still, the golden scythe lowered somewhat as the redhead cocked her head to the side, orange-red eyes fixed on icy blue.

North was confused. What was Jack thinking? He'd known how the summer spirit had started but that was the past. The girl before him was a monster, Mother Nature's general and assassin. She hurt the innocent for fun and decapitated people who bored her. There was nothing left to save. Eyes widened as the girl's weapon began to lower. It suddenly clicked in North's mind: Jack was trying to distract her for him! Not one to waste an opportunity, the older male leapt forward, sword glinting in the light.

"No!" Jack yelled, but it was too late. Midday spun around, easily deflecting the blow before opening her mouth, sending a stream of gold fire at North's sword arm. The scythe vanished from Midday's grip as her glow increased, becoming a blinding light. Running forward, Jack grabbed North, having the wind scoop them high into the air as the light set fire to the prairie, instantly destroying everything in its path. He sighed in relief as he saw Sandy flying in the distance, Tooth and Bunny held by his securely in golden clouds.

The sun rose again. Jack could only look on in shock as a miniature version of the sun, perhaps with a three foot diameter, flew into the sky before streaking out of sight. Looks like she did have the power to fly after all.

Note: Tooth's witch comment was inspired by a poem about Lady Midday (The Noonday Witch/ The Noon Witch). Also, what do you think about the sun transformation? I decided against giving her natural levitation like Sandy since it doesn't relate to her powers, but I thought that would be a badass mode of transport.


	6. Becoming a Lady

6\. Becoming a Lady

Note: Obligatory angst in this chapter. Proceed with caution. I mean it.

July 13

Death Valley

Underground Bunker

Lady Midday was many things, most of them even she'd admit weren't good, but if there was one thing she was not, it was a slob. Sadly, being immortal meant possessing many things gained over centuries of travel, things that tended to pile up. And, since she was still working on purging the ice magic from her system, the summer spirit had chosen today to do her version of spring cleaning.

Reaching the basement of her three story compound, she set to work. Marie Antoinette's broach: keep. Military trench knife: keep. Marie Curie's scarf: burn (regrettable, but she didn't need winter clothes). Radioactive dirt from Chernobyl: sprinkle it on someone soon. Midday's eyes widened as she carefully removed the final object from the trunk. It was a very simple, entirely outdated dress. Midday ran a red-nailed hand down the skirt, uncommonly gentle. The pure white of the material was the same as it had been centuries ago, the material just as soft. This was the only outfit she had kept from the dark ages, and it had one hell of a story.

HSHSHSHS

1427

Kingdom of Aragon (Spain)

"Hurry up!"

Two girls, no older than ten, ran barefoot through the fields, laughing wildly. The speaker, a girl with curly brown hair and dark eyes smiled at her friend, silently admiring the way the sun made her auburn hair glow. "Augusta, we'll be late if you don't run faster!"

"Coming, Anabel!" The duo continued their trek back to the village, arms weighted down with baskets of fresh fruit from the orchards. The cousins made quite the sight, both dirty and disheveled from their labors yet glowing with satisfaction. Anabel and Augusta were best friends, raised in the same household and as close as sisters.

Augusta held her head up high as they reached the village, resolutely ignoring the whispers. In a secluded location where everybody shared the same dark hair and eyes, the birth of a child with light brown eyes and auburn hair had been a source of scandal and years worth of speculation. She'd grown up hearing it. Abomination. Adultery. English brat. Anabel's parents had taken her in after her father publicly denied their relation within hours of Augusta's first cry. He and her mother had left the village several months later, never to be seen from again. To be honest, she was almost grateful to him. Her aunt and uncle were wonderful people, treating her like their second daughter and teaching her to see herself for who she was as a person, rather than how she had come into this world. Arriving at their destination, the girls entered the modest home, putting the baskets on the kitchen table.

"We're home!"

1430

Augusta glared at Cristóbal, hating his presence in her home and what it meant for her cousin. The years had not been kind to their little family. Work had been scarce and her uncle had recently taken ill. With little money and no sons to help support them, her aunt had chosen to take matters into her own hands by beginning marriage negotiations. Not for her, of course, no man in Aragon would willingly touch a child of sin. Augusta felt her blood boil as she stared down Anabel's fiancé. This was wrong.

Cristóbal was handsome, she'd give him that, and his family was moderately wealthy, but he was by no means a suitable match for Anabel. The fifteen year old was loud, vicious, and slovenly. She had seen his mother, bruised and submissive, breaking her back for years as he and his father lazed about. He had no respect for women, no respect at all. And he would be marrying her sister. Visions of Anabel, spirit broken by her husband, flashed through her mind. Augusta's teeth ground together as her heart beat in her ears, drowning out the sound of his smug voice.

Cristóbal and Anabel were married three months later. It was the first and last time Augusta cried in public.

1431

Augusta held the weeping brunette, feeling her own heart breaking. Cristóbal had been as she'd predicted. No, even she hadn't thought he would stoop so low. Drawing back, she used her sleeve to wipe away the blood trailing down Anabel's temple. One dark eye looked helplessly back at her, the other swollen tightly shut. How had this happened? Wasn't it just yesterday they ran through the fields, young and free of care? No, it hadn't been. They had both grown up, childish innocence cast aside by necessity. Augusta reached out, grabbing the hand Anabel kept pressed to her stomach and holding it in both of hers.

There was nothing she could say to comfort the other girl. As if a miscarriage wasn't bad enough…

-One week later-

Augusta blinked, awakened from her sleep by a frenzied pounding at the door. Taking her candle, the young woman opened the door, fully prepared to give the guilty party a piece of her mind. The candle clattered to the floor, fire dying on impact with the cold stone. It was Anabel, her dress covered in blood, a kitchen knife glinting in the moonlight clutched tightly in her hand.

Fighting back a cry of alarm, Augusta herded her cousin to the table, lighting another candle. Anabel looked so lost, so little. "Anabel-

That was all it took for the other to begin wailing uncontrollably, knife hitting the floor as thin shoulders shook. Augusta reacted on instinct, one hand flying to cover her mouth while the other arm wrapped around her, pulling the other into a firm embrace. "Be quiet!" She whispered harshly, terrified that her aunt would wake up. "What has happened?"

And so it came out. After the miscarriage and Cristóbal's reaction to it, Anabel had been petrified of him, more so than she had been before. Tonight, he had attempted to bed her again and she had panicked. She wore the proof of her crime.

Anabel was still shaking, eyes wide and pupils dilated. "What will I do? Where will I go? They will kill me. They will kill me, Augusta!" Augusta crouched down until their faces were inches apart, her eyes deadly serious. "They will not. You will be a wealthy widow with your pick of men if you follow my instructions. Do you understand?" Shakily, Anabel nodded, a small spark of hope returning to dulled eyes. "Take off your dress."

Anabel did so immediately while Augusta fetched a bucket of water and a rag. Within minutes, her cousin stood, freshly scrubbed and wearing Augusta's spare dress. "Stay in my room and wait quietly." The brunette nodded, disappearing from sight.

Just before dawn, Anabel returned to a cleaned house and followed Augusta's orders. When questioned, she claimed her husband had not returned home the night before. It was much too late that she realized the consequences of her cousin's plan. Cristóbal's corpse was found a week later, hand clutching several auburn hairs.

Augusta had known a cold, hard truth: Anabel could never live free of suspicion unless the "true" killer was discovered. And, as everyone knew, Augusta had hated Cristóbal with a passion. By the time the body had been discovered, the murderess was long gone.

1432

The Pyrenees (mountain border between Spain and France)

Augusta sat shivering by a small fire. Those that had known her just months before would be unlikely to recognize her. Her once glorious auburn mane was knotted and greasy, her skin darkened by grime and body robbed of its vitality by much labor and little food. The girl watched the sky, face blank. She'd underestimated the hatred the villagers held for her, hadn't imagined they would chase her from village to village. She'd lost them weeks ago, but now she had doomed herself to a slow death. The mountains were wild and dangerous and so, so cold. Winter was setting in and Augusta knew she couldn't cross the mountain in time.

She was going to die.

-days later-

Augusta ran, eyes wild as the mountain broke, sending torrents of mud and rocks hurtling forward. The rain stung her eyes, blinding her as thunder and lightning lit the sky. Instincts sending out a warning, Augusta froze, toes grazing the side of the ledge. She was at the top of a cliff, the mudslide blocking out all possible exits.

Augusta closed her eyes. An image of Anabel, standing bloody and lost in the moonlight, appeared in her mind. Augusta smiled. She had no regrets. Eyes closed, she barely felt as the freezing mud struck, pushing her over the edge.

1440

The sun blazed hot over the Pyrenees, an uncommon occurrence for the usually snowy mountain range. The valley was peaceful, young plants thriving in the heat. It was beautiful, a miracle of nature. And not the only one to happen this day.

In the valley, there was a small circle of land where nothing grew. The dirt cracked, deprived of water and nutrients. The dirt cracked a little more. And a little more. Slowly, the earth began to crack open, startling the animals. Within seconds, the soil had moved away, revealing a figure dressed in white underneath. The girl, who had been in the fetal position, looked up slowly, blinking in the light. She slowly uncurled, climbing up from the new formed crater and examining her surroundings. She was a beautiful girl, but oddly colored by any race's standards. Sun-colored eyes looked around curiously.

The girl didn't have a name, but she would. The voices of nature whispered in her ears, providing comfort and guidance. And so began the Lady Midday.

HSHSHSHS

Lady Midday looked down at the dress, smiling softly. The memories of her former life had returned slowly over the first few years, but she hadn't minded the delay too much. Mother had kept her busy. Midday re-folded the dress and placed it back in the trunk. That one was a keeper.

Note: First off, I realize Midday isn't a Spanish legend. My only excuse is that I don't know much about her real country's history, so I decided to take some liberties. Plus, I did want to show that she does have a soft side…even when it's only when she is totally alone in a place named after its high mortality rate. Please review.


	7. Dealing with Devils

7\. Dealing with Devils

Note: Thanks for the reviews. This chapter is mostly to advance the plot.

Library

North Pole

Jack groaned, dropping the latest failure of a book. While the other guardians has their injuries attended to, he and Sandy had decided to check North's famous library for ways to help Midday. So far: nothing. While both agreed her present state was the Nightmare King's fault, neither knew how. Lady Midday wasn't a fearling and Pitch would've used her during their last confrontation if she was possessed. Sandy had submitted the idea that Pitch had simply driven her mad in an attempt to convert her, but Jack wasn't sure. After all, insanity doesn't come with a color change, and Midday's eyes were clearly different. Jack dropped another book, taking slight satisfaction as it hit the ground with a thump. "You have anything?"

The Sandman shook his head, carefully setting his own book down on a table. Jack felt a twinge of concern for his much older friend; seeing her again had opened some old wounds. "Well, let's keep going!" He faked a smile, picking another book up. "We won't get anywhere by giving up!"

"Quite right, Jack." Came the silkily drawled response. Jack and Sandy froze, turning to face the intruder. Pitch Black was in the North Pole.

Immediately, the Guardians attacked with gold sand and ice, blasting Pitch across the room. Their target hit the wall with a groan, sinking to the ground as Jack and Sandy advanced. "Why are you here?" Jack demanded, barely resisting the urge to skewer the dark man with shards of ice. Do it, came the increasingly loud inner voice, kill him for hurting her. Ice energy crackled along his skin, making his eyes glow with an arctic light. Sandy backed away, eyes wide. He hadn't known Jack could summon ice energy without his staff. Similarly, Pitch gulped, forcibly reminded of a certain vengeful redhead. "Believe it or not, I'm here to help you defeat Lady Midday."

What?

HSHSHSHS

They were in Sandy's room again, this time for an interrogation. Gold and ice blue eyes glared down at their prisoner (who was looking much less intimidating practically dripping in dreamsand chains). "Well?" Jack demanded, breaking the silence.

Pitch cleared his throat, a tiny puff of black sand escaping in reaction to the presence of the gold. "I have been made aware that you recently encountered the summer spirit." Jack nodded, unwilling to answer verbally. "And once again, with consequences to your teammates." Another nod. "I'm here to help."

"Why?" Jack demanded, "since when do you want to HELP anyone?!" Pitch choked as the chains tightened, squirming as Sandy glowered down at him. Finding his breath again, the Nightmare King laughed bitterly. "I assure you, this is a matter of self preservation. I'd love watching her incinerate you, but then it would only be a matter of days before I ended up the same way. Everyone would."

"What?" The Guardians shared a look, both equally thrown by the statement. Dark gold eyes widened, "the accursed Man in the Moon didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

Pitch laughed again, "Lady Midday wasn't wandering around because she's bored, she's working out battle plans. The girl is planning an all-out assault on the spirit world, the end goal being the destruction of all spirits not allied to Mother Nature!" Sandy reared back, dreamsand flailing wildly in shock. Jack just stood there, barely able to think as the voices warred in his head, commending and maligning the summer spirit. Blinking, he shook them off, turning to Pitch again. "What did you do to her, Pitch? Why's Midday like this?" The older male flinched slightly at the question before sighing. "Let's put it this way, Mother Nature sets up her spirits with a…defense mechanism. Push them too much and they go into 'wrath of nature' mode until the danger ends. Turns out, overexposure to nightmare magic causes it to bind with an individual. In this case, Midday's magic is convinced she's always in danger, effectively locking her in her alternate form." He sighed again, muttering to himself. "It would have been wonderful if her issues with me hadn't carried over."

Jack caught Sandy's fist a second before it reached the Nightmare King's face. He agreed with the sentiment, but hitting somebody who couldn't fight back was definitely against Guardian ethics. "We're not going to kill her. You have anything else in mind?" Pitch smiled up at him, "What do you know about magic mirrors?"

Despite his rage, Jack felt an eyebrow rise at the odd question. "They show you the 'fairest' of them all?" Pitch snorted, voice full of condescension, "I'm not talking about childish stories, Frost, I mean old magics infused in reflective surfaces by mages." Jack shook his head, still lost. "Why would that help?"

"Because," the 'you idiot' was strongly implied, "I know of a mirror capable of reverting our rebellious friend to her rightful state. The Mirror of Souls. It shows a person their true self. One glance and Lady Midday will be her noble little self again." Jack felt a spark of hope. "You have it?"

Pitch flinched again. "Not exactly. That's why I'm here, I can't get it myself but you can." The hope dulled and suspicion rose. "And why is that?"

"Because it belongs to the first ice spirit, Old Man Winter, and I'd rather not end up trapped in a glacier if he doesn't feel like parting with it." Jack blinked. He knew there were stories of other winter spirits but he'd never met one. "He's that strong?"

Pitch's cheeks darkened with shadows as he looked at a spot slightly to Jack's left. "I tried to acquire the Mirror from him shortly after I arrived on this planet. He…chose not to part with it."

Jack smirked, "He kicked your ass, didn't he?" Sandy nearly fell out of the air laughing as Pitch growled in annoyance. "Do we have a deal or not?"


	8. The Wrath of Summer

8\. The Wrath of Summer

July 13

Death Valley

Lady Midday lay spread out on the ground, eyes fixed on the sun. Everything was progressing as planned. Rolling over, Midday nearly purred as the harsh rays began eating away at the lingering winter chill. She loved the desert and the bunker located thirty feet under her was her pride and joy. Despite not using electricity (she'd given up on trying decades ago), her home was a feat of engineering. Thick stone walls, a magic infused security system, and a system of mirrors and magnifying glass decorations that sent the first floor's temperature to broiling levels. It was the perfect place for her. Sadly, it wasn't the sort of place she could bring guests to.

Standing up, Midday stretched, enjoying the crack as she arched her back, before taking to the sky as the sun orb. This technique was pretty recent and even Mother had been surprised at her success, not knowing her Second in Command would be able to shapeshift. Roaring through the air, she soon arrived at her destination: North Brother Island. Resuming humanoid form three hundred feet above land and lowering herself slowly (Mother wouldn't want her to kill the local bird populations), Midday landed with a soft thump on the green grass. Looking at her companions, she gave a smile that was all teeth.

"You all know why we're here."

HSHSHSHS

North Pole

The Guardians stood in shock, unable to process their youngest's words. "You," North started, "will not fight Lady Midday?" When Jack and Sandy had announced a meeting, the others had thought that it was to finalize plans. But instead the two had suggested finding some magic mirror to help her. It just didn't add up. "No." North raised his voice, cutting off Jack mid-sentence, "we have orders. Manny says we must stop her."

Jack felt himself getting angry, the internal voices increasing in volume. "So what?!" He snapped, relishing the stunned looks, "MiM doesn't know her! You all knew her at some point, you know this isn't natural! We just-

"Just nothing, Frostbite!" Bunny had finally recovered his voice. "YOU are the one who doesn't get it! She's nuts, alright?! Whatever she was, it's gone. You think you're the first to argue on her half, mate? You aren't. Try to get close and she'll kill you, or isn't this clear enough?" He gestured to the singed fur on his torso and the burned flesh under it, still nowhere near healed. Bunny was furious. How dare Jack side with the enemy! Midday was Mother Nature's, a she-devil with no concept of mercy and he wanted them to betray the Man in the Moon for her!?

Jack backed up as the Guardian of Hope advanced but refused to give in. "Look, I know she hurt you, but-

"ENOUGH!" North's shout cut through the air, making him flinch. "We are Guardians, Jack. It is our duty to protect the children from Midday. I'm sorry but we will not be going on wild chase for her sake." Jack stood as the others, apart from Sandy, left the room. Turning to a small shadow hiding under the table, he spoke, "Deal."

HSHSHSHS

The trio stood facing each other, a sense of awkwardness permeating the air. Midday resisted the urge to set something on fire, knowing it wouldn't help her case. Despite the fact that they were Mother's most trusted advisors, the seasonal spirits were rarely able to work together, their natures clashing on principle. To be honest, Midday knew it was probably more her than anything; they could sense her instability, feel the summer blaze scraping against their own magics. But they weren't exactly normal either.

May Flowers fidgeted under her stare. The spring spirit was normally a very bubbly, outgoing person, her stubborn optimism contrasting nicely with April's morbidity. Even before Pitch, Lady Midday seriously doubted they would've gotten along. If anything, it may have been worse if the other felt confident enough to argue with her. Despite that, she could respect May's work ethic. Every year after April Showers woke her from her winter hibernation, the strawberry blonde would be zipping across the planet, pulling out all the stops to bring life to the land. It had been something she had done from the beginning, since Mother had created her and Harvester from scratch. She had never been human, her light green skin and pointed ears attesting to the fact.

The Harvester, spirit of autumn, was…different. He creeped May out worse than she did, which was pretty funny since the tall male was WAY less likely to harm her if she got mouthy. Midday privately thought that he was very attractive in his own way. Very artistic, his skin fully patterned with autumn leaves, a swirl of colors that reminded her of a bonfire. Long black hair fell past his shoulders, matching his dark eyes. While modern costume makeup might be able to copy the effects, it sure couldn't recreate the silky black crow wings Mother had given him. That, matched with wicked black claws and pearly fangs, was enough to terrify May and attract her, though she had gotten over the interest after realizing how incompatible they were. While she was firey and passionate, he was cool and distant, rarely speaking and never seeking the company of others. They only really saw each other in the space between their seasons, where the chill had begun to creep in but the heat was still putting up a fight.

Midday felt a surge of anger as an image of a white haired boy with icy eyes danced through her mind. Meeting the winter spirit had put her in a foul mood, especially since he WOULD. NOT. GET. OUT. OF. HER. HEAD! He had been the second seasonal spirit, but he wasn't here, wasn't one of them. She remembered first hearing about Jack Frost, the grave insult of the Man in the Moon daring to create a seasonal, taking the winter chill away, meaning that their court would always be incomplete. Magic, despite common misconceptions, was limited. In creating a winter spirit, the Man had robbed her of her future partner. Summer and winter were the most powerful seasons, opposites in every way, but still a pair. May Flowers and the Harvester were her allies, but the winter spirit, the one that Mother had planned to create, would have been her other half. Jack Frost's rebirth had been a defiance of the natural order, an act of war against her mistress. Midday grit her teeth, feeling her blood literally beginning to boil.

The others had agreed to give aid. Soon, Jack Frost and all other unnatural spirits would no longer be a problem. Mother would once again posses the winter magics and she would be complete. Taking once more to the sky, Lady Midday headed towards her next destination. Time to rally the troops.

Note: What do you think of the last few chapters? I can't help feeling quality has slipped a bit. Still, I like the idea of the four seasonal spirits and Midday's issue/fascination with Jack.


	9. A Light in the Dark

9\. A Light in the Dark

Note: Sorry for the lack of updates. Busy week. Just giving a brief taste of Creeper!Pitch.

Pitch watched the winter spirit, easily seeing the similarities. He had told the truth when he'd attempted to recruit the boy, but only because his ideal partner was…disinclined to leave his limbs attached should they meet again. Really, it was amazing that the Guardians' blasted master had managed to save Overland considering how out of his skill set reanimation was. And giving him the winter chill? The Nightmare King shook his head, amused despite the seriousness of the situation. It was a bold move to steal from Mother Nature.

1459 AD

Germany

Pitch's Castle (pre-Lair)

A young red-haired girl sat with her back to the wall, shivering alone in the darkness. It was a beautiful room, lavish to the extreme, with gilding, and murals, and silks and furs. It was a room fit for a princess, if one could ignore the obvious issues, like the lack of doors, windows, or light.

The redhead rubbed her hands together, sending out a couple small sparks. She couldn't remember how long she'd been here. He liked it that way; maybe a week here, a month in the dungeons, then back here for a few weeks. Never staying in one place long enough to feel comfortable, not that she really cared. A cage was a cage. He could give her anything and she wouldn't feel gratitude. He could take everything and she wouldn't feel the loss.

Lady Midday's inner fire was beginning to dwindle, but she stayed resolute. Loyalty and perseverance were the traits she prized above all others. She would not give in.

Lounging on an obsidian throne, Pitch watched the girl curled up in the darkness. He hadn't expected her to last this long, but her resistance only made her a more worthy prize. Gold eyes narrowed as he sensed her fighting his magic.

The girl was powerful, intelligent, beautiful and loyal. With her at his side, he would have the world on its knees, Mother Nature and MiM lost to the shadows. Smiling, he sent out a stream of magic, pushing the child into restless sleep.

1477 AD

The once glorious castle lay in ruins, black stone melting away as a small figure strode through the debris, eyes set on her prize. Nobody would recognize her as the noble summer spirit, no, they would see her as what she was: an angel of vengeance.

Pitch felt his heart stop as he looked at Lady Midday. He hadn't expected this, hadn't known! Arm shooting out, he sent a blast of dark magic forward. She didn't even blink as it connected, burning away on impact.

It would be the last time the two would meet, as Pitch's empire was lost to blood red flames. She would take everything, leaving him easy prey to the Man in the Moon's spirits. For many centuries after, the dethroned King would hide away, in shadows and under beds, dreading the day spring gave way to summer. Every year, he could feel her searching for him, determined to finish the job.

Waking from his memories, Pitch shivered in fear…and excitement. Oh yes, he'd feared her, hated her, fanaticized her brutal execution at his hands, but the fact remained that he wouldn't trade Lady Midday for a hundred Jack Frosts. She was his, and had been since their fateful encounter many years ago. Pitch schooled his features as the boy turned to look at him.

The hunt was on.


	10. King of the Mountain

10\. King of the Mountain

Note: Hi people! I'm enjoying the story so far but writing Midday's POV is hard! It's like crossing a less arrogant Thor (the movie, not myth) with Carnage (also Marvel). Confusing mix.

July 14

Russia

Two figures flew through the air, eyes fixed on the mountain in the distance. Since Sandy couldn't leave the country for too long (night was approaching and kids need dreams), he'd elected to keep an eye on the Guardians and stop them from following. Jack would've been fine with that if it didn't mean he was alone. With Pitch. Which was way worse than being alone, really. Actually, it was sort of his fault they'd spent the last five hours traveling. Pitch could travel through darkness and had planned on bringing them to Old Man Winter that way. But that would mean LETTING Pitch cover him with shadow magic, and so a two minute trip was approaching six hours. He was still kicking himself for that.

"Wrong way!" Pitch called, his voice nearly overwhelmed by the wind. Jack raised an eyebrow, confused. They were going to the tallest mountain in the country, the one in front of them. "It's right there," he yelled back, pointing for good measure, "the tallest mountain." Smirking, Pitch took a sharp turn, nearly knocking the teen out of the air. "Shame on you, Jack! After all this time, you know so little about the spirit world!"

Angry, Jack turned, following the smug bastard. He really hated when people made fun of him like that. Was it HIS fault he hadn't had a decent conversation in centuries before joining the Guardians? Hell no. Though he supposed he could've spent more time in North's library…or asked the others…ok, maybe it was a little his fault.

Roughly an hour later, Pitch stopped abruptly. "We're here." Jack looked around, it was a forest, not a mountain. As if sensing his disbelief, Pitch snorted. "You should know by now that not seeing something doesn't mean it isn't there." Whipping out his hands, the Nightmare Kind sent out a stream of shadows, covering the landscape. When the darkness cleared, Jack's Jaw dropped. The forest had been replaced by a mountain, and what a mountain it was. The rock was white, a color purer than marble, and practically coated with snow and jagged stalagmites of ice. The top fifth was obscured by a swirling snowstorm, not coming from a cloud but the land itself. It was the epitome of winter chill, and Jack felt dwarfed by the sheer power dancing around him, causing his own powers to react, covering his skin in a thin layer of ice.

Home, his annoyingly frequent inner voice whispered, breaking the spell. This is home. Feeling the icy power surging through his core, Jack couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

Note: Please review. I know it is annoying to review stories all the time but I am really new at writing and appreciate comments. Even bad ones, though obviously not as much as good ones.


	11. Legacy of Frost

11\. Legacy of Frost

Old Man Winter's Mountain

Russia

After another hour of searching, Jack and Pitch had finally found the entrance to Old Man Winter's home. Walking through the ice coated hallways, Jack found it increasingly difficult to remember why they were here. Everything about this place felt so amazing, he dreaded having to leave. Pitch wasn't so impressed, cursing every time his feet slipped and burrowing as far into his robe as humanly possible. Finally, the duo reached the doors, large intricately carved double doors made from the mountain's pure white stone.

Seconds ticked by, and Jack felt himself getting annoyed by Pitch's pointed stare. "What?" Sighing in annoyance, the dark spirit pinched the bridge of his nose. "The door is infused with winter magic, Frost. I'd freeze solid if I touched it." Oh. Stepping up, Jack examined the door. There was no knob or handle. "Just touch it." Reaching forward, icy skin met subzero rock. The doors opened with a deafening groan and the two entered the cavern within.

Old Man Winter sat on a glittering white throne. His hair and beard were a light silver, his skin fair. The large figure was dressed in elaborate ice blue robes, decorated with silver snowflakes that swirled around in a way reminiscent of a blizzard. He was strong, regal, and imposing. He was also dead, with a spear shoved through his chest hard enough to pierce the stone behind him.

Frozen corpses littered the room, and Jack recognized them as winter sprites. He'd seen a few but they were almost extinct in this day and age. From the look of things, they'd died trying to protect their lord. Jack fell to his knees, shoulders heaving. He couldn't breathe. He'd seen death before, hell, he'd been alive for every major American war, but something about this scene made him lose all restraint. The only thing keeping the tears at bay was Pitch's presence. Jack wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Jack kept still as the Nightmare King searched for the mirror, trying to recollect himself. It wasn't until Pitch had returned without the mirror that Jack realized why he felt this way. The room was completely devoid of the winter chill and that wasn't something that could happen naturally in a place like this. Whoever had killed Old Man Winter had ripped the magic from his cold, dead corpse.


	12. Rain, Rain, Go Away!

12\. Rain, Rain, Go Away!

Note: Thanks for the review, VulcanTrekkie! You make some good points about character descriptions, though it may take a while to alter my style.

Old Man Winter's Mountain

Russia

Jack hissed in annoyance as he was pulled to his feet and dragged back into the icy hallway. His head was still spinning from the magic void surrounding the fallen winter spirit, so dealing with Pitch wasn't exactly the top of his priority list. "Get off!"

The Boogeyman scoffed at the implied threats, but allowed the younger to slip out of his grasp nevertheless. "There is no point staying here, the mirror is gone. We need to figure out our next move." Jack felt his magic sharpening as his anger increased. He hated this! He hated Pitch! Unknown to the Guardian, his eyes began to glow white, hair standing in frosted spikes as the temperature decreased. Whoever had killed Old Man Winter would suffer, he'd chase them to the ends of the earth if he had to! He'd-

Wham!

Jack's head slammed into the stone as Pitch pushed him back, causing the white light to recede. The younger spirit fell to the ground, one hand cradling his aching skull. What was going on? He blinked as his vision cleared, revealing Pitch farther down the hall, watching him warily. "What happened?"

"Get up, Frost. We're leaving." The Nightmare King disappeared down the hallway in a swirl of robes, leaving the confused teen to follow behind.

Atlantic Ocean

200 feet up

Once again, the two spirits were traveling, this time the location being a witch in Salem (so much for it being a stereotype!) who specialized in spirit world history. If anyone would know who took the mirror, Pitch claimed, it was Hester Morgaine.

By this point, Jack had pretty much forgotten his earlier anger, and was a little confused by Pitch's insistence that Jack fly in front of him. For his part, Pitch felt that it would be a long time before he would turn his back to the winter spirit. The boy's magic seemed to be increasing, giving him new powers and heightened sensitivity to magical auras. It also seemed to be making the teen unstable in ways that forcibly reminded Pitch of his future apprentice. It was possible that being exposed to the pure Summer Blaze of Lady Midday had activated some of Jack's dormant strength. It made sense in a way, since no seasonal spirit should be as reliant on their weapon as Jack was on his staff. MiM really had no business creating a Seasonal.

"How long till we get there?" Jack shouted over the wind. "About an hour. We need to-

Pitch yelled in shock as he was knocked out of the air by a blast of wind, hitting the dark water with a sickening slap. Jack winced at the sound before spinning around. Something was wrong, the wind never did that without consulting him. Swooping down, he joined Pitch, who was hovering above the ocean, scanning their surroundings. The sky darkened as clouds rolled in, obscuring the sun. "Pitch, what's going on?" Jack felt an unfamiliar energy rubbing against his skin. It was…damp, and lukewarm, and zapped against his magic painfully, making the teen feel slightly ill. "I'm guessing you weren't the one using the wind," the Nightmare King didn't look at him, pupils dilating as a rumble of thunder sounded from close by. "No."

"Then you're about to meet another of Mother Nature's little helpers." The water below them began moving restlessly, a wave nearly catching Jack's bare feet. The two began flying again, slowly, as everything around them turned gray. It wasn't long before they were forced to stop again, this time due to the presence of a girl floating in their way.

"Frost, meet April Showers."

Crap.


	13. A Heated Look

13\. A Heated Look

Hi people! Sorry for the delay (school started up) and happy to be back. Taking a little break from the Adventures of Dark and Cold to bring you more Lady Midday. Also read end notes.

July 14 (around the events of Ch. 10)

North Pole

North glared as Sandy floated out of the room. The dream bringer refused to tell him where Jack was, and his magical attempts had been met with some outside interference. Nicholas St. North sighed as he took a seat at his desk, some of his anger making way for anxiety. Jack, his Jack, was somewhere out there, alone and risking himself for what could only end in heartbreak. He couldn't understand the winter spirit's sudden rebellion. Over the last few years, they had gotten closer, with the other Guardians trying their hardest to make their youngest member feel welcome. And now this.

North appreciated Jack's innate kindness. It was, after all, what kept him from joining Pitch and destroying them after they rejected him, but to go so far as to help Midday…no. Unacceptable. Whatever infatuation the boy felt for the redhead could doom them all. She was a monster in every sense of the word. He would know, considering the last time he'd seen her before the recent fight.

1883

Krakatoa, Dutch East Indies

The glimmering red sleigh landed with an audible thump, sending tiny clouds of ash into the air. The driver, an older male dressed in leather and furs, stepped out, eyes wide. North didn't usually leave the Pole this time of year but he had to see this with his own eyes. He'd been near the globe when it started, lights going out by the dozens. Hundreds. He couldn't say the exact amount, especially as his legend was not so common in this part of the world. But he had still felt as countless young lives were lost.

Face hardening, he started walking, red sleeve covering his mouth and nose as the dust flew. There was a certain spirit with some explaining to do. Nearly an hour later, he felt it. He was being watched. "MERAH!" he bellowed, "FACE ME!" It had taken him too long to realize the eruption had not been natural. Mother Nature rarely acted without reason and rumor was that the island's volcano spirit had actively defied orders to do this. He supposed that was understandable (though no less awful), as the volcano spirit was actually a minor demon and not technically under Her control. It wasn't important now, anyway. "MERAH!"

"She won't answer."

North whipped around, mouth falling open as a familiar figure moved into sight. Lady Midday. He'd only met her once, early in his immortality and only briefly. It had been at a meeting between their respective…pantheons(?) where Mother Nature's and Manny's spirits discussed upcoming projects and worked out how to avoid stepping on each other's toes. He remembered being in awe of her strength, both physical and internal, and vying with other spirits for her attention, not that she cared for their subtle/blatant attempts at seduction. The meetings had once taken place every five years, but that one was the last. The Natural Court suddenly began denying all attempts at communication, striking out more harshly towards trespassers. The rumor was that one of Her favorites had been stolen away. Over time, he had forgotten about Midday. The Natural Court stayed out of sight and his workload increased. It wasn't until over a century later that he had learned the truth. The summer spirit had been driven insane by Pitch and had, since her escape, been punishing the innocent and guilty alike.

And here she was.

She was still beautiful, but the aura of nobility she once carried had been replaced with something else. Something chaotic, and predatorial, and very, very wrong. Long hair swayed gently as Midday walked towards him, the train of her dress making a whispering noise as it moved against the ground. If North had still been the young man who tried and failed at wooing the elusive redhead, the sight of her in that dress wouldn't have helped his obsession. It was a crimson red sheath dress, one shoulder, that fit her body beautifully. Gold bangles around her wrists and ankles jingled brightly as challenging lava-like eyes met blue. North had never been more thankful to have aged over the years. He still struggled to find his voice. "Where is Merah? Must answer for deaths she has caused." Midday smiled, a look that was somehow cute and terrifying at the same time. "Very true."

Midday stopped several feet away, smile intact. He could feel the heat coming off her in waves, the summer blaze attempting to burn through him. He scowled, fighting off old memories. "Where is Merah?" He repeated, eyes narrowing. "Mother didn't like her little show," North absently noted that her accent was no longer as pronounced, "so she decided to…make an example." North backed away as the heat increased, a hand moving towards a sword as the smile took on a feral edge. "Example? What example?"

"It's simple, really," Midday held out a hand, easily catching her signature weapon. "Interfere with Mother's design…and die!"

Back in Present

North opened his eyes, pushing back the memory of the fight. The burns had never healed and, in fact, covered his left leg from toes to lower thigh. If she hadn't been summoned away, he wouldn't be here now.

He pitied Jack, really, he did. He remembered what it was to be young and easily swayed by a firey beauty. He just hoped the winter spirit's scars would not be as agonizing as his own.

Note: First off: NORTH IS NOT A PEDO! This story isn't following the books, but if you look up Nicholas St. North, you'll see that the version of him who liked Midday was WAY younger than his current look. Like mid to late 20s, which was socially acceptable back then. He didn't love her but I picture Young!North as kind of a ladies man, the type to focus on the unattainable. As for the dress, I think the design sounds pretty but it would've been totally scandalous in the 19th century.


	14. Sleet

14\. Sleet

Note: Hi people! Back to Jack for a while. Sorry that recent updates are taking so long but school is really stressing me out & making it difficult to feel inspired.

Atlantic Ocean

90 feet up

It's the calm before the storm, was Jack's first thought as he scanned the new spirit. April Showers hadn't moved since Pitch's introduction. She just…hung there. Jack shifted uncomfortably as her magic clashed against his, it was eerily like the effect Midday had, but almost worse. Midday's just hurt while April's…he actually didn't have a word for it. The dampness seemed to seep into him, making his limbs feel heavy and his clothing stick awkwardly to his skin. He felt nauseous, confused, and the little jolts kept him from concentrating. It was awful.

At last, April shifted, looking directly into his eyes. Hers were dark gray, the only part of her face he could see, as the rest was hidden in the shadows of her hood. "Jack Frost," her voice was quiet, almost part of the wind, "We know what you are looking for. Turn back or perish." The Guardian blinked, surprised by the demand. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tried, fingers tightening around his staff, "who are 'we'?"

"The Lady acts in accordance to Mother's will. You can not and will not stop her." Jack kept his eyes locked on hers as Pitch began to move, slowly to the side, closer to the female spirit. "You want us to just sit around and wait to be killed? Yeah, not happening." Pitch was getting closer. "If anything, you should understand what we're trying to do! Midday is a nature spirit, one of you. Doesn't that mean anything?" Jack felt angry on Midday's behalf. Even her family didn't care enough to save her from Pitch's influence. Gray eyes narrowed as ice blue faded to white. "You don't care at all!" Jack hissed, a cold, cracking noise surrounding his words. "She's alone! Suffering! For centuries! And you don't care!" April backed away, holding her umbrella in front of her protectively as the wind howled around them. "How dare you try to stop me!"

To her credit, April kept calm in the face of the winter spirit's rage. "It is Mother's will that Midday remains powerful. Our court does not tolerate weakness and Middays former regard for humanity made her weak. She does not need to or want to return to her lesser self."

"SHE WAS NOT LESSER!" Jack screamed. "SHE WAS NOT WEAK! SHE WAS KIND, AND BRAVE, AND IF YOUR IDIOT OF A MOTHER-

Pitch's eyes widened in horror. Insulting Mother Nature in front of a nature spirit was suicide. He tried to move back but it was too late.

The Storm had arrived.


End file.
